Uncertain Fate of Old Synagogue Reflects Debate Over What to Save

Pigeons sometimes swoop through the once-storied sanctuary of
Beth Hamedrash
Hagodol, a 164-year-old synagogue on the Lower East Side. Now, a flock of preservationists, city officials and the congregation's rabbi is trying to make sure a wrecking ball doesn't do the same thing.

The uncertain fate of the landmarked but deteriorating synagogue reflects a broader question gaining urgency across the Lower East Side: What can, and should, be saved?

Last fall, the city approved Essex Crossing, the largest redevelopment project on city-owned land in Manhattan south of 96th Street. While widely welcomed, it has raised concerns that rising land prices will accelerate the destruction of historic properties.

The dilemma of how to balance profit, progress and preservation is one that synagogue leaders, among others in the community, have struggled with. After seeking to have the building's landmark status revoked in 2012 so a developer could erect a new building (which would have included a new worship space), Rabbi
Mendel Greenbaum,
46, changed his mind after meeting with alarmed community members last year.

Now Rabbi Greenbaum is working actively with officials, developers and preservationists to see if a deal can be struck to preserve the temple.

"It definitely needs to be saved to show to generations to come," he said.

The old synagogue on Norfolk Street on the Lower East Side. Rabbi Mendel Greenbaum is trying to see if the structure can be preserved.
Andrew Hinderaker for The Wall Street Journal

Built in 1850 when Protestants dominated the neighborhood, the striking Gothic Revival-style building became an early home for the rising Russian Orthodox Jewish population at the turn of the 20th century, ultimately housing the oldest such U.S. congregation.

Its rabbis were among the leading Jewish scholars in the U.S.—including the only chief rabbi ever to lead New York's Jewish community and one of the few rabbis to survive Lithuania's Kovno ghetto during the Holocaust.

As late as the 1970s, "there would be loudspeakers coming out of the shul and people would be lined up on the sidewalks," to hear lectures, said
Laurie Tobias Cohen,
executive director of the Lower East Side Jewish Conservancy.

When postwar urban-renewal efforts leveled giant swaths of the neighborhood, it became one of the first New York City buildings to win landmark status, securing the designation in 1967.

But in recent years, as the area's Orthodox population dwindled, the building began to deteriorate. Its massive central window sports a rock-size hole. A fire and years of deferred maintenance wreaked further damage. Closed since 2007, the building received an official vacate order from the Department of Buildings in 2011.

According to a recent analysis funded by the New York Landmarks Conservancy, the interior—including painted murals and intricate detailing—is beyond saving. But the outside, with its two soaring towers, elegant steps and arched windows, is "almost surprisingly" stable, said
Ann-Isabel Friedman,
director of the sacred-sites program at the Landmarks Conservancy.

"It's a tragedy if we lose it," said
Samuel Gruber,
director of Gruber Heritage Global, a private cultural-heritage consulting firm.

The main building could be converted for a variety of uses, supporters say, with space reserved in the basement for services. There are still about 50 congregants who now regularly attend services in Brooklyn, said Rabbi Greenbaum.

City Council Member
Margaret Chin,
who represents the area, said she is committed to saving the building. One prospect: transferring the synagogue's air rights to a new development, possibly for affordable housing.

"That that would be a win-win situation," she said. But "we're open to all possibilities."

That is, as long as the "dignity" of the space is preserved, said Rabbi Greenbaum. "No dance clubs."

The developers at Essex Crossing are in talks to fund the synagogue's restoration and maintenance in exchange for air rights, said several people familiar with the situation.
Risa Heller,
the project's spokeswoman, declined to comment.

In general, "we would be happy to talk to any neighbor who feels impacted by the project to see if we can help," said Ms. Heller.

Essex Crossing will cover 6 acres of largely barren land on the Lower East Side and will include housing—half of it affordable—stores, a movie theater and a museum.

As part of the environmental review for Essex Crossing, the city identified two potential historic districts as well as six potential landmark buildings nearby. Two structures have already been landmarked; the rest are still awaiting review, officials said. The few existing buildings within the development site, including historic Essex Street Market, are being demolished.

Mr. Gruber, the heritage consultant, praised Essex Crossing overall, but warned, "We don't want to plop developments in neighborhoods as if they came from outer space." Interweaving layers of history and architectural styles creates natural transitions between new and old, he said.
Sholom Eisner,
owner of 75 Essex Street, one of the buildings under preservation-commission review, said he opposes its landmarking. "After so many years when the Lower East Side was worthless, it's finally coming that people can make something on their losses."

Last month, his 1890 Italianate building, which sits next to the development site, went up for sale for $21 million—$3 million more than its last listing in 2010.

The original application to have the building landmarked was filed in January 2013.

The review has been "expedited in light of the fact that it's for sale," wrote
Kate Daly,
executive director, adding that a decision was expected "shortly."

But development may be moving faster: There are about 20 open full demolition permits in Community Board 3, which includes the Lower East Side and Chinatown.

"I really do fear that what really has been among the city's most historic neighborhoods is going to virtually disappear," said
Holly Kaye,
a longtime preservation consultant to the area who is working with Rabbi Greenbaum. But "I'm an activist from the 60s," she said with a smile. "You never give up."